


Inspection of Services

by focusedfun



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-01-20 23:18:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21289823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/focusedfun/pseuds/focusedfun
Summary: Hermione didn’t tell a soul the real reason why Ron has left, not even Harry - or rather, especially not him. Despite Ron Weasley being a war hero, and Hermione long forgiving him, she still struggles to lead a normal life, years later.Enters Draco Malfoy, the sole heir of a now convicted Lucius Malfoy, who was notoriously known as the Master of Sex Magic in Voldemort’s ranks. Except his son offers supposedly effective counseling on the same topic, therapy for couples, and bonding ceremonies, as if he was reformed and wanted to help people for a dime.Hermione, as a Ministry worker goes undercover, and can’t decide which would interest her more: if she could expose Malfoy as a liar who secretly still serves his own self-interest running some sort of a scheme, or, if the rumors were true and Malfoy could really help her, even if that would mean she’d have to accept Draco becoming a better person she’d ever give him credit for.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley non-con mentioned
Comments: 68
Kudos: 186





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t own the characters of Harry Potter. The only thing I own is the mistakes made in the story, since I don’t have a beta. Unfortunately, these facts can’t stop me from writing, sorry everyone. *laughs*

Ron had forced himself on Hermione, then blamed in on the Horcrux, and left. She never told anyone, and when he came back, Hermione was willing to pretend it never happened, and Ron was smart enough to not to push her for more, which made it somewhat bearable.

So, after the war, she was the one who awarded Ron the Order of Merlin (First Class), in front of the cameras, since he _was_ a war hero, and did sacrifice a lot in war, just as they all did, and she had no intention of debating that, but once they were out of public eye, they were only friendly to keep a distance between them by the false familiarity and for Harry to not know what happened.

Hermione didn’t want to ruin the friendship between Harry and Ron, when Harry was still mentally struggling on some days, and Ron was his only male friend while Harry was dating his sister, making everything all the more complicated.

She also forgave Ron, because the next witch he dated was the badly scarred Lavender who everyone thought was dead when she was attacked by Fenrir, but somehow survived, and Ron really took gentle care of her. How could Hermione blame him for one mistake when he could also treat someone so hurt so kindly, not looking at her any different despite everything?

But that didn’t mean Hermione found sex easy, or that she ever really recovered of the memory. Since years have passed when she felt ready, she dated a couple of wizards just as some Muggles, and had occasionally slept with some, but she never found it pleasurable, so she ended up faking it. To appear normal, at least, in the eye of the other party, she supposed.

One wizard didn’t realize this, and went as far as proposing to her, only making her feel guilty, which resulted in her taking up mountains and mountains of work, ignoring dating fully from then on, giving up on that part of her life, while choosing to build her career with double the effort instead.

She worked for multiple departments, and often they chose her more for her stature as a member of the Golden Trio than the skills they supposed she had, but she liked to positively disappoint, and that got her quite far in the ranks of the Ministry quite fast, as she was now coordinating a team of 5 under her, all the while still taking jobs herself, even when she could have just delegated everything.

It was fun, because they never got the same mission or job twice, their requests coming from all departments and sometimes even from overseas, so she was never bored. But that also meant she wasn’t even tempted to be bored enough to even think about dating, and when Ron and Lavender announced they were expecting, she felt almost as if an outsider to the normalcy which with everyone congratulated them, and took up chain-smoking, just as even more work.

“You’ll drive yourself to an early grave, dear,” Molly Weasley warned her, still being kind, despite how she was no longer connected to Ron, to be really family to the other witch. “And I’m not telling you that because I think the work you’re doing is unimportant. On the contrary, Arthur tells me that without you, the restoration of the Ministry would have taken twice as much time, if not more. I’m asking you to take better care of yourself, because the way I see it, you’re invaluable for the Ministry thinking themselves so smart, but all run by wizards who couldn’t do half the things you do, every day. If you fall ill, who you suppose will take care of everything?”

It made her smile and promise to Molly that if a “decent wizard” would ask her on a date, she’d say yes, but luckily, no one dared to approach her as she was known to be quite fierce in the Ministry when working (as she had to be, to get things properly done), and she spent almost no time _not_ working.

She was safe. Unhappy on some accounts maybe, but undoubltly safe. Accepting the lonely future that awaited her, even if it wasn’t something she envisioned for herself before the war. Or at least, that’s what she thought.

The way she felt when she got an envelope full of details of Draco Malfoy of all people running a sex-counseling business, which some people regarded as suspicious, and asked her department to investigate, was telling another story, however. The minute she got the job she knew she wanted to take it, not even considering to give it away to her underlings.

Her excuse was that she had her doubts as to why Malfoy would selflessly - and also for almost no price - help people with their sex-lives which were ultimately personal, and therefore a great topic to exploit. 

Using it to make threats, receive magical vows or privileges, magical artifacts, properties or big sums of money in a way that he wouldn’t have to pay taxes on it, sounded more like the Draco Malfoy she knew, and other people seemed to think so too, because they sent her to investigate.

But, if she chose to be honest, maybe she was equally curious, because if by some miracle, Malfoy’s therapy was working as advertised, effective and not just some shady scheme, she could maybe also find some answers for herself, under the cover of only doing her job.

The way she chose a Polyjuice-batch of a witch who wasn’t hard on the eyes, and dressed up nicely, while even applied some Muggle make-up for her first appointment, spoke louder than any excuse she told herself about how it was only a job to her.

How she was okay to grow into a cat lady with old age, living alone, only occasionally babysitting Weasley children as a favor, content of only having a one sided life, being married to her job.

If that was true, she wouldn’t have worn high heels to the meeting with Malfoy, feeling a subtle fluttering of nervousness in her stomach, trying to gain his sympathy in any way she could, even using her femininity she almost never relied on, in a mere hope that then he’d be more compelled to help her.

No, her lies and _lies about lies_ \- even to herself - were a strong habit to break, but she wanted to have someone, a chance for a life other than what she already had, and she wanted it so badly, in fact, that she was even willing to give Draco Malfoy’s advice an honest try, if it meant she could gain anything in return.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully Draco is just the right amount of an asshole here. ;)

Draco rented office space directly facing Diagon Alley, costing him more than he got as a fee from his clients, but he wasn’t doing it for the money.

It might have been tiring to counsel witches and wizards just as couples all day, while reading up on investing news at night, and moving magical stocks in the morning, but it was worth it because he had a freedom of choice to do something he wanted to do, and not Lucius, nor the Dark Lord forced his hand anymore, even if it came with a cost of needing to earn his money sacrificing his sleep. Still worth it.

And the location might have been too lavish compared to any space that could have just as well housed his practice, but this office had a tufted Chesterfield sofa from which you could see lively happenings of Diagon Alley below, and both his clients just as he and Pansy on their breaks enjoyed the view too much to give it up.

In fact, she was sitting there with him, as part of their daily routine, giving him coffee as well as information of his upcoming appointments, while shamelessly resting her head in his lap, just as she liked to touch him inappropriately ever so often, claiming he was in sore need of it, and if anyone, she didn’t mind.

“Also, what we feared will come is happening,” she announced dramatically, and Draco had to fight the urge to not roll his eyes, given that this could mean real trouble, or just that Pansy had to pay double price on the next fashion item she coveted, you could never tell by her way of presenting it first.

“Ah, so the noises we always heard from the attic, are confirmed to be real rats?” Draco just asked, because there was a loud thud just then, so that’s were his mind went first. “Which are, let me guess, with the luck we are having this year, are also resistant to any extermination spell, and our landlord says we don’t have it covered in our contract to have him do the work in a Muggle way that would required to get rid of them.”

“Close enough, and this could very well still happen, mind you,” Pansy just noted, while examining her nails that were only freshly manicured yesterday. Draco knew because it meant she had twice as long of a lunch break. “But what I meant was that the Ministry got in their heads that Draco Lucius Malfoy cannot possibly run a clean business, and sent someone to find a fault, any fault with our methods.”

Draco had to suppress the urge to sigh. If he wanted to be honest, he was surprised they didn’t come after his head earlier, but it was also the worst possible time when his mother also fell ill, and he had to make stops every day at least 3 times to supervise her healers who otherwise were reluctant to provide care for a wife of a well-known convict, even if Draco paid them more than generously.

“Who is it? Tell me it’s not Percy Weasley, or we just rather close shop now. I don’t believe I could stand him reciting any magical law violation for more than two seconds without falling asleep, even if it was for the sake of my practice,” he just noted, making Pansy smirk up at him.

“Yeah, yeah, even we’re not that blessed,” she just then said. “But don’t rejoice too fast, because Miss Hermione Granger will waltz though our doors today, thinking we don’t have background checking spells on all our appointments, probably Polyjuiced, if not partially transformed, and being sent to close this place down, if she can.”

“Ah, it’s a strategy. Being investigated by one of the Golden Trio members, they are making sure I’ll never get a chance to re-open practice again if they manage to find even a hair out of line somewhere,” Draco saw though that easily since it was not unlike the Ministry to use a tactic like that at all. “I’m just surprised how Miss Granger herself doesn’t seem to notice they are only using her for her fame.”

“Maybe she enjoys being important,” Pansy smiled a crude smile. “Maybe you could implant the idea in her head that she was gay and I could teach her how to be humble again...”

Draco snorted, because Pansy was only saying things like that, not meaning it. She was in a relationship with a half-blood witch, which seemed serious enough, although he made sure never to ask if she didn’t share by herself, not mistaking her for another client.

“I have told you a number of times, I’m not implanting anything in anyone’s head, Pansy,” he just rather noted, half entertained by her, half almost offended still. “I only help people realize a sexuality what’s already there, just sometimes hidden away. In some cases, that’s all they need.”

“In some cases, a good fuck is all they need.”

“Don’t be crude.”

“And you, being so serious about your job, even if it’s Miss-Hermione-saint-Granger visiting, trying to bring everything down you have worked for in the last couple of years,” Pansy now gave him a look as she was disappointed with him, and finally got off from his lap, so he could stand and also flip through his owl post and the Prophet which only arrived some minutes ago.

“I haven’t said I’m going to let her,” he said, not finding anything of interest in the small pile of mail, nor the paper. “What is she claiming to have now, anyway, that she needs help with?”

“They went with the most basic thing they could think of, inability to achieve orgasm during sex. Although, with Weasley being her ex, and knowing how uptight Granger always was at our Hogwarts days, I wouldn’t be surprised if that was actually true,” Pansy howled with laughter at her own comment, and Draco just gave her a look.

“Pans, need I remind you, the only rule I have for you as my employee.”

“You wouldn’t have a stick up in your arse about your little rule either if you were getting any. But no, all the girls I keep setting you up with, you find faults in them, expecting them to like ex-Death Eaters so they would shag you, but when they are into it, saying they were into it _too_ much, I mean how could a one night stand be ever too much, it’s not like I sent them to you to marry them...” Pansy trailed on knowing full-well how Draco hated those dates she set him up with, and only bought it up to derail him from reminding her she was stepping out of the line insulting _any_ client of his, which they agreed early she’d never do, even if said person was Hermione Granger sent by the Ministry, probably lying her way in just to spy on them with the intent of harm.

“When someone wants you to yell Unforgivables at them during sex, I’d rather not have any, even if it’s just for one night, fuck you very much,” Draco knew he shouldn’t let Pansy lure him into this conversation once again, but he also couldn’t pretend he was over that night just yet, the date still too freshly engraved by shock in his memory. 

“Well, you need to lower your standards compared to the whores daddy dearest could afford to hire for you before, because let me tell you, it’s a brave new world out there with all kinds of freaks who have all the wrong fetishes and kinks, but not so brave that witches would line up for you after you were fighting on the wrong side of the war, and ended up in a very public hug with You-Know-Who, in the end, which quite frankly, didn’t do miracles for your image. There are speculations you _served_ him in more ways than one, you know,” Pansy went on, unfazed by the look he was rewarding her with now. She insulted everyone the same, even him, even if she knew she herself was his first, not any whore, and he didn’t appreciate to be reminded of Riddle touching him the slightest. 

“Just... all I ask is to let Granger in, as you would anyone else,” Draco just noted, strongly compelled to make Pansy take back the comment of Voldemort fucking him, but knowing full well he only earned that because he let her indulge on a topic he shouldn’t have joined in the first place. “The last thing we need is her finding something in her coffee, or you giving her any similar cause to report us, even if she isn’t prepared to do so no matter what, which she might as well be.” 

“You know I wouldn’t do that to you,” she then just sighed, luckily willing to switch the conversation to a more of a serious tone now, since even she probably deemed their situation severe enough to warrant it. “But it’s not fair that she can just come here, and we have to treat her with the same patience just as we would treat any of your other clients, who are suffering for real, her taking up your time the same.” 

Draco knew she wasn’t concerned about anyone’s emotional pain or said suffering, not really, but would have loved to see Hermione Granger squirm a bit, and was now provoking him to see if she could start something with Draco, but she was also right. They were Slytherins, and Draco wasn’t just willing to let Granger march in, and take his practice away, using some Ministry bullshit and made up technicalities. 

Maybe he’d have to have some sort of leverage on Granger, just in case, just to be smart, not to attack, but to protect himself if it was needed. And her taking the appointment while thinking Draco to be blatantly ignorant of who was really visiting him maybe already presented a way for him to exploit. 

“Say, Pans, do we have the consent forms for the treatment already signed by our special VIP guest?” he lazily asked, but that didn’t mislead Pansy at all, because she was grinning madly at him, guessing he was up to something by the question alone. 

“Oh, funny you should ask, Dray, they arrived this very morning. All legit, even if she forged the name of the signatures, the contract holds,” she announced the same way. “Should I be worried?” 

“Shouldn’t I try anything?” Draco now was just surprised she had voiced any indication that what he was preparing to do was highly unethical. 

“I’m only concerned that you might end up having too much fun, and get caught, not knowing where to stop,” she just smiled, patting his face. “We don’t want that either, she might have signed in because she knew we’d know it’s her and try something we otherwise wouldn’t.” 

“I doubt that, or she’d put off signing the documents maybe after a couple of sessions. And it’s not like I’m going to humiliate her, or step a pinkie out of line in her presence. But our contract is quite long just to be legally safe in any case, allowing a lots of practices I would normally not use, right?“ 

“Meaning the Ministry has no way to prove it’s not your usual way of treatment, or voice any complaints if you unsuspectingly use one of said practices on a random female patient, who we couldn’t know was Granger, since it’s in our contract we make everyone sign,” Pansy’s eyes were now positively twinkling with malevolent joy. “So if you decide to have a little, let’s say _alternative_ therapy with her—“ 

“As long as it is still on the side of good taste, having some fun at her expense maybe, but not doing something to harm her, then maybe—” Draco added, mirroring somewhat Pansy’s smile. 

“Or maybe let’s say _not serious_ harm, at least,” Pansy just pretended to wonder out loud, as if it only occurred to her, and wasn’t trying to get Draco to do something like this all along with her manipulation. “Then we’re good to go, and won’t have to be afraid of nosy Gryffindors ever trying to close down our shop again. Hypothetically speaking.” 

“Yes, maybe,” Draco said, giving her a satisfaction of not disagreeing with her. He wasn’t against some white prank played out on Miss Granger, but he was also in a responsible job where he’d never risk seriously toying with anyone’s most private feelings, no matter who it was and what Pansy said. 

He decided to wait and see what Hermione had in store for him, and then act accordingly, only prank her to a degree he will feel his intelligence insulted by her. If she gave him a well constructed story of her supposedly existing problem, doing some research, thinking he would be smart enough to figure her act out otherwise the way he actually already had, he’d go easy on her, maybe without trying anything. 

But if she came in thinking she was too high and mighty for anyone to suspect her, he’ll let his long buried vindicative Slytherin side loose a bit, using her arrogance against her, and she could only thank herself for it. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: there is a description of panic and non-con related emotional baggage on Hermione’s side in this chapter, which might be triggering.
> 
> Other than that, do you my dear readers trust me with where this story going? I hope so.

Hermione heard her own pulse drumming in her ears, and her heart was fluttering so fast, as if it was threatening to beat out of her chest.

She could swear Pansy Parkinson smirked behind her at Malfoy when she was letting her in, leaving her with an foul taste in her mouth, and general disorientedness that came from the unease and stress.

She also regretted dressing up nicely, feeling less safe of her comfortable clothes that covered her body up more, and maybe her make-up pulling too much attention, because Draco was staring at her as if wondering about it for a couple of seconds before switching to a professional tone and asking.

"So, _Miss Perkins,_" he even accented her fake name, as if making a point with it. "Why don't we start with you telling me a little about why you're here, what do you hope to accomplish with this therapy and then I can tell you what I do here and what I can do for you, should you want me to."

She found it quite a reasonable request, yet while she had to rid her body of motion to hide her uncontrollably shaking limbs, her mind was reeling in circles with a thousand miles per an hour, repeating only her worst fears back to her without words, not letting her think about anything else, barely registering the outside world, or the question.

She had a way to get out of it: trying to concentrate on little details and sensations she didn't notice before. Realizing she was sitting at an albeit elegant but leather sofa that gathered her nervous heat only to radiate it back to her however, didn't help her to calm.

She probably didn’t sit back far enough on it, because she wore a skirt, but the fabric of her clothes kept slipping on the leather, and that threw her off balance, as if she was fighting a couch that was trying to swallow her whole.

What was she really thinking? She couldn’t tell what happened to her best friend. Why did she think she could do it with Draco Malfoy, who used to call her names, and had fought on the side of the Dark Lord?

Although, that also meant he at least wasn’t on good terms with the Weasleys, if Hermione was to talk about Ron and what happened. Not that she wanted to say it was him, of course, but the disconnection surely couldn’t hurt.

Not to mention, there wasn’t anyone else offering magical sex therapy, other than him. She researched it, and with magicals, it was also the question of their magic, their sexual experiences connected to their magical cores as well as signatures and flow of magic, but there weren’t any therapist working with the topic, as the Muggles seemed to have some famed specialists.

There were, mostly Dark wizards and witches who sometimes could channel sexual energy in groups as well as individuals, but they usually didn’t offer therapy, rather, they could exploit everyone around them as if they were just mere batteries of magic, accumulating power to harvest.

In fact, Lucius Malfoy was known to practice Dark Sex Magic in the ranks of Death Eaters, a report Hermione read told, and Draco must have inherited the knack for it from him, but ended up using it very differently.

Or rather, that point remains to be seen.

The only thing that she could direct her attention to was the gloomy grey street of Diagon Alley below. She didn’t like it, being always too crowded, even if it was a cheerful crowd full of excitement, but Draco’s office was on the seventh floor.

From up there, looking out on the quite wide window, everyone in the flowing crowd below seemed smaller, almost tiny, and from looking at the top of their heads, Hermione wondered if all the problems they were having maybe also shrunk with perspective.

This calmed her enough to speak.

“I never had an orgasm in my entire life.”

“Never?” Malfoy just shot back to question almost too fast, or maybe it just seemed so. He was probably waiting for her to speak for some time now, silent, and now that she gained enough courage to speak, he was just probably disrupted his own way of thoughts, to listen to her.

“No, never, and if you don’t help me, I have my doubts I ever will.”

“We can work on that,” Draco nodded, but it was also as if he was carefully controlling his gestures as well. Or maybe she just wanted to find an excuse to ruin this only chance for herself, because she didn’t want to share her secret? Because she was terrified the moment she would tell someone - anyone, Malfoy or not - that her words would make it somehow more real, more unbearable, shattering her into a million tiny pieces, inflicting damage she could never recover herself from. “But maybe it would help if you told me more. Why do you think you’re unable to reach orgasm? I’m assuming you’re not a virgin and can feel pleasure while having sex, but correct me if I’m wrong.”

Hermione could have felt really uncomfortable to correct him if she was a virgin after a statement like that, but she had rather difficulties with the second part of the sentence.

She rarely found any pleasure in sex, sometimes it being outright revolting, if usually not just a situation she would have preferred to get out of quickly, unable to really be there, and not back in the tent with Ron.

But how is she supposed to say? Where to start?

“I... I’m also having difficulties with having pleasure,” she ended up saying, ashamed how she couldn’t even talk about it properly, even given a free pass, even wanting it so badly, thinking this therapy could help.

“Aren’t you just a little too locked up in your own head, not willing to let go?” Malfoy suggested now, making her stare at him.

The use of “just” in the sentence didn’t set right with her, nor Draco’s expression that displayed a neutral expression that was so carefully kept she felt it was meant to cover up something behind.

Was he laughing at her? Could he know by any chance it was really her? Or is she only seeing things, being so terrified to open up to rather nitpick on details that might not even be real?

“I... erm...” she didn’t know what to say, as if her head just gave up thinking altogether, putting her in a spot of white nothingness, shutting every thought down.

“Why not we try an exercise to help you with that,” Malfoy just briskly went on, not really waiting for her to respond, and also getting up from his armchair, and moving to sit down next to Hermione, with his full threatening height, even seated. “I take both of your hands, and peak at your magical signature a bit. Only a handful people know how to do this properly, but you can read through some of a person’s sexual experiences through their flow of magic, if you’re skilled enough. Maybe you just let your magic talk instead of you, and then I can see.”

Hermione didn’t want Draco touching her in any way, but she didn’t raise an objection either. He was already taking her hands without question, and also because he said he could read her magic, so maybe if that worked, she could be... helped.

Maybe it wasn’t bad and she’ll feel slightly uncomfortable as she was now, but she’d bear it if this could be a key to further treatment, meaning she wouldn’t even need to speak about her past in the first session, only maybe later when she was ready.

“Close your eyes and take a deep breath,” Draco instructed, now closing his own eyes, while Hermione ignoring the instructions to do the same. “Now, you’ll only feel my magic, don’t be alarmed...”

It was a terrible feeling. Like Legilimency, only it meant more personal because Malfoy wasn’t just fishing in her head for memories, but in her magic flowing in her entire body, in her essence, searching for feelings.

Hermione made a motion to pull away, but Draco didn’t let her, and dug just a level deeper, before a lot of things happened at once.

It must have been Draco who let out a gasp, because Hermione wasn’t opening her mouth now, her magic and memories stirred up by what he was doing as if the memories were fresh anew, afraid that if she did, a sob would escape. 

Then, Malfoy must have let go of her arms, but she didn’t register that, because with a threatening amount of power, in an attempt to get him to release her hands, Hermione cursed Malfoy so bad he flew across the room, straight into the wall, and then violently ending up on the floor, bleeding.

She wouldn’t have used such a force behind the spell if she knew he’d let go of her anyway, but she wasn’t sorry he seemed hurt, only taking a couple of hurried steps to gather her cloak from where she hanged it, before Apparating away.

Malfoy had no right to enter her most personal feelings and magic like that. Even if the contract she signed had it in writing that he was allowed to do that, she’ll attack his practice in front of the Wizengamot if she had to, if she finds evidence he used techniques like this invading the patients privacy.

But that wasn’t all, her hands fumbling with the cloak now, unable to put it on, since she was shaking too hard, and was too overwhelmed to remember how.

Draco fucking Malfoy couldn’t just let her go, he also had to prove he was the worst kind of scum, changing nothing since their school days, even though if anyone, he had a lot of room for improvement.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean... I would never... I had no idea. Was it... was it my aunt who did this to you? We all knew she was crazy, but I never thought she would do—“

Hermione felt overwhelmed, as if uncontrollably falling, without anything in site to reach for to steady her. But when he mentioned Bellatrix, it meant... It meant she was right all along. He knew it was her, and that she was investigating him.

He knew, and still couldn’t act decent, if only for just as long as a Ministry sent official was under his care. What could he do to other patients then, Hermione didn’t even want to begin to fathom.

“You knew all along it was me, you can’t tell that from my magic, even if you got pretty much everything else you wanted,” she just hissed at him, now cloak and all her panic forgotten.

In fact, she was so angry, she was now shaking from anger. And the ground felt solid under her feet once again where she stood, just as solid as her determination that she’ll make Malfoy pay for this.

She’ll take not only his practice and dignity away - not unlike what he just did to her - but she’ll go for public humiliation and jail time if she can. She’ll interview all of his former patients and prepare a case so impenetrable that Draco Malfoy would march to join his daddy dearest in Azkaban crawling, broken, just to give him a little taste of the hurt and shame she was feeling right now.

“I knew, and I’m so sorry! I never made such a careless mistake in my life. I would never have done this, if I just had a faint idea you weren’t just pretending, I would have handled the situation quite differently, it’s not how I usually treat my—“

“Well, it’s quite unfortunate but nothing can be done about it now, can it?” Hermione found herself standing still, emitting power by the tone of her voice and her stance as well, if for nothing else, just because she had still some dignity left, and didn’t want Malfoy of all people know how badly he just hurt her.

She’ll have to deal with the aftermath surely later, but wasn’t willing to give him the pleasure to see it.

“Gr— Hermione. I can help you. Please let me. I have treated patience like you with success. I made it my purpose to help those who need it. Just let me start over. Without the games and the pretence—“ he said, getting up wobbly from the floor, and coming closer with a speed that worried Hermione, until he stopped noticing she was eyeing him frozen to the spot, unable to move. Then, he came to an abrupt stop and opened his palms as if saying he noticed, and he won’t come closer, but that was just probably a good act, as if he could be ever concerned about a Mudblood, right?

He might have only realized his mistake of having fun on her expanse could cause him to lose his practice, and he was just trying to seem more emphatic in case they checked their memories at the hearing.

“I wasn’t playing any games with you, Mr Malfoy,” Hermione, however, just cut him off with an icy tone. Maybe there was a lesson here she could use for her life. Maybe she shouldn’t get therapy, but only remember she shouldn’t trust anyone, and she should be fine. She should have turned around from the door the minute Parkinson was smirking at her malevolently, she should have known never to trust anyone, but especially not these magicals... “I was here doing my job, yet you not only knew it was me, you used your situation to attack and humiliate me.”

“I was only—“

“Save it for the hearing, Mr Malfoy, I guarantee you there will be one, and you can surely come up with good excuses to use there, but they will not work on me,” she warned, and hurriedly Apparated away.

She didn’t know how she managed to Apparate herself in that state in one piece, but by the time she got to her desk in the Ministry, she was still shaking and felt rattled, but she also had a clear objective.

Maybe Draco Malfoy couldn’t help her, but she could help every unsuspecting witch and wizard who would have relied on Malfoy’s services in the future if she destroyed Malfoy utterly and completely.


	4. Chapter 4

Being back in the same chamber where Draco was first trialed for his war crimes, reminded him of Potter helping him get out despite how Draco told him multiple times he didn’t need any help, while his father was sentenced for life. 

Leaving Draco question the why, but free. So he decided to use this chance for a new life the best he knew how, and that kept him going. But then he hurt Hermione Granger, who was already struggling.

He knew he could help her, yet the only one she wouldn’t trust now no matter what. Not to mention, his practice was at risk, the only thing that kept him relatively(?) sane. While if he was found guilty, he’d be considered a recidivist, possibly even sentenced as well.

His life turning to worse, and Draco making stellar decisions as ever wasn’t entirely new though, so he almost greeted the feeling of impending doom as a familiar feeling.

“I was wondering what could make you fuck up so badly, unlike how you would usually act,” Pansy then opened her mouth to speak on a lowered voice, next to him.

They concluded last night that it was better if Pansy took up his defence, speaking on his behalf. The Wizengamot was naturally biased, thinking an ex-Death Eater/Malfoy could only tell lies, and given that almost every member had dealings with Lucius Malfoy in the past, Draco couldn’t say he blamed them.

Draco also felt it was better if he didn’t force Granger to deal with him directly after what happened, as a curtesy at least, since he wasn’t able to go back and change the past.

“And now I see. The crush you had on Granger since third year has gotten only worse. Your eyes will fall out if you keep staring at her like that, you know,” Pansy added, now elbowing him on the ribs, not even gently.

Leave it to Pansy to protect his best interest, as always.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he just said, forcing himself to look away. He was making things worse both for himself and said Miss Granger, Pansy was right about that, even if not the crush part.

“You’re right,” Pansy surprisingly agreed, only to turn her cruel smile at him just a mere second later. “Maybe it wasn’t since our third year, maybe it was ever since she bested you in our first year in all our classes.”

“I was much better in Potions,” Draco just noted, leaving Pansy to be, being impossible as always.

“Just know that I do this for your sake, exactly because you aren’t thinking clearly, and I don’t want you to get hurt, even though you won’t like it, when I call our character witness,” Pansy kissed his cheek, only leaving him with the feel of dread.

Since Draco was trusted with sensitive information, he couldn’t with good conscience reveal the identity of his patients, not even what was said or done during their sessions. 

Or at least, that was what they discussed with Pansy before, but she clearly went against his wishes.

“Pansy, what the hell,” he tried to not curse under his breath, trying to stop her from announcing whoever she wanted to call.

Pansy, however, cursed his mouth shut with the twirl of her fingers, not even needing a wand to do that, releasing Draco of the capacity of speech for just seconds, but that was all it took her to dramatically say. 

“We would like to call Mrs Ginevra Potter, as our first and only character witness.”

And indeed, “Mrs Potter” walked in, very much pregnant, and Harry Potter himself physically supporting him to emphasize the fact, making her more sympathetic. If not to show that even the Saviour of the Wizarding World himself would come to support his wife in person if she came to the rescue of Draco.

It was probably engineered by Pansy, and it was as clever as Draco found himself hating it. Potter already had to save his life twice. 

How many more times could he take the humiliation of being no better than a damsel in distress when it came to Harry Potter always saving him?

“You had no right,” he hissed to Pansy, getting rid of the silencing charm first with an irritated gesture. “I specifically instructed you not to do this, so what you just did is illegal, not to mention-”

“Is there something of the matter?” someone from the Wizengamot asked. “Or can we proceed?”

“Call the Aurors to arrest me then, with Blaise gone, I won’t have a future if you’re rotting in Azkaban,” Pansy pretended to just shrug him off, but he saw she had angry tears in her eyes, before blinking them away, and turning back to the members of Wizengamot, composed again. “We’re ready. I just have 3 questions to our witness, if she could be so kind to introduce herself.”

Draco considered fighting Pansy on this, putting an end to it before it even began. He knew he should be held accountable for his actions, going too far, and the Potters were there to avoid that. But Pansy was also right, even if he couldn’t decide if her tears were fake or real. 

He couldn’t willingly let Granger lock him up in prison, or take away his practice, as an intended punishment for Draco, but hurting people who relied on him more.

“I’m Ginevra Potter née Weasley, the wife of Harry Potter,” the youngest Weasley - Potter now - said, and Pansy just smiled, while Draco noticed Hermione looking at the Boy-Who-Lived in the background, who just stood next to his wife with what now seemed determination.

“Question one: you received treatment from Draco Lucius Malfoy, consulting him for more than a year after a war?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Question two: was this treatment just a general consultation, or was it targeting the topic that’s Mr Malfoy’s practice is known for?”

“You’re referring to sex magic, correct?” Mrs Potter just asked, as if she didn’t know, but Draco thought it had to be a well reversed line.

“Yes,” Pansy told her, seemingly pleased, probably already reading from the shocked expressions of the members of the Wizengamot, and deciding they were right where she wanted them to be. Listening, some probably even holding their breaths.

“Then yes. I received treatment connected to sex magic. Harry and I both needed Draco’s help quite desperately after everything we’ve seen in war,” Draco tried not to inwardly flinch when Ginevra now beamed at him with a charming smile.

Yes, he treated her, and by extension even Potter in couple’s therapy, but they never advertised this or became friends. Their pasts would never let that happen.

“Which brings me to my last question, then,” Pansy nodded as if emphatic, but now sending a “there is no need to thank me, I know I’m the best” look to Draco using her hair as a cover so others in the chamber didn't see. “Did Mr Malfoy mistreat you in any way? Or do you think he was professional, genuinely helping you?”

“He was always on point, and his therapy saved our relationship with Harry,” the young Weasley now very publicly kissed Potter, who colored slightly. 

It didn’t take Draco’s expertise to deduce this part of showcasing their love publicly wasn’t planned, or at least Potter wasn’t informed about it, but he went with it the same, only pulling away a good thirty seconds later, when Ginevra just almost off-handedly added, her hand gesturing to her very much pregnant form.

“As you can also see the result for yourself, Miss Parkinson.”

“Congratulations to the both of you, Mrs Potter, we won’t keep you in your blessed condition any longer, of course, thank you for coming in,” Pansy just added, but hardly any Wizengamot member was following their conversation anymore. Everyone was on their feet, yelling over each other, arguing in upheaval.

“With pleasure, we owe Draco so much,” Ginny just said, while Draco found himself looking at Potter, who only sent him a stern nod, before his eyes darted back to Hermione Granger, giving her a “we’ll talk later, if you want to” look. 

She had every right to try get some kind of a revenge, yet Pansy even got Potter on their side, who was her best friend.

Maybe saving all those people in the future with his practice wasn’t as important if it meant he’d devastate Granger completely now. It’s not as if Draco was an irreplaceable healer, he only mended people’s sex life, some with more success than others.

Who was he to have a right to decide he can’t be hold accountable for anything just because people might depend on him in the future? Who is to say that Hermione didn’t have people like that, maybe even being more important for their society then Draco?

“If I may,” he found himself impulsively speaking up on a voice that demanded everyone’s attention, even the Potters turning back from their way to the door. “I have just one thing to say.”

“Draco, are you unwell, do you need to lie down?” Pansy tried to shut him up again, sending a bunch curses with her words as well, but this time he had shields up.

“I have never abused my powers, ever since I started my practice, knowing full-well that my work was only worth as much as my credibility. That’s why I also have to tell the truth now: with Miss Granger I overstepped. I used a highly experimental technique on her, and pushed even when it was clear she wanted me to stop.”

“Deeply honored members of the Wizengamot, I ask you to not consider what Mr Malfoy is saying,” Pansy cried out, taking over. “He was clearly cursed with a compulsion spell if not worse! Being an ex-Death Eater, he can’t even walk down on Diagon Alley without people calling him names and trying to hurt him. Clearly, someone in this room has a reason to try to destroy him and will stop at nothing.”

“Test me if you need to, but it’s true,” Draco said, and even though he was self-destructing at a speed unknown to him before, he also noticed how much lighter he felt now.

It didn’t set well with him to escape the war without punishment when he was branded to serve that madman, which he did. He realized he couldn’t just stand there and let the same thing happen again, especially not since this time he had a choice to not do this, and he just chose ignore it.

He was so convinced Hermione came to him with a fight, that he wanted to be the one who hit first. Ignoring every sign that would have told him otherwise.

It was the true prejudice behind the teachings Lucius, Draco shedding those beliefs a long time ago, but keeping the mindset that just because it was her, Ministry worker, Gryffindor and Muggleborn, she was surely coming to try to destroy him.

“As Draco Malfoy confessed, it’s only the matter of the Wizengamot deciding his punishment now,” the spokesperson of the tribune announced, before the deliberations started.

Pansy was pissed at him, but she still put a hand on his to calm him, and he found himself clutching her hand, as the minutes were ticking away, with each passing second only adding to his nerves. And Granger staring at him in some sort of disbelief didn’t help.

“The Wizengamot has reached a decision. Since most of us agree we can only truly restore our not quite numerous society after the war if we let the ex-convicts reintegrate seamlessly, and that won’t happen if we hand out punishments not fitting the crimes, our verdict is a bit unconventional.”

Draco could feel his pulse rising, hearing that, but at the same exact moment, he saw how Granger has shifted uncomfortably on her feet. This could mean anything.

“Based on Mr Malfoy’s candid admission, and the spoken account of Mrs Weasley, the Wizengamot tends to believe that the only person ill-treated by Mr Malfoy was Miss Hermione Granger. Should this supposition prove false, at any future moment of time, this tribune will automatically grant Mr Malfoy the worst possible punishment.”

Draco could imagine what that punishment looked like, even though he never visited his father in prison, nor was he especially in a rush to try to kiss a Dementor.

“But also, to address Miss Granger’s concerns, and to pay for the damage Mr Malfoy admittedly caused to her person, the Wizengamot decided to put Mr Malfoy should pay a fine of a hundred thousand Galleons to the Ministry, and should be placed under constant surveillance for a month, a Ministry member always being present for all the sessions he leads with his clients, monitoring him.”

This was not good news for the kind of business Draco had, nor for his pocket, or helping his clients hard-earned honesty either, but considering everything, it seemed almost too magnanimous, so he began to think he misheard something.

“Excuse me?” Hermione must have had thoughts along the same line. “You let him walk, and practice the same, knowing full well that he he can just pay off any Ministry member sent to-“

“That’s also why this tribune decided to send nobody else, but you, Miss Granger. You seem to be quite adamant about the cause, and this way you can personally make sure Mr Malfoy is in his best behavior, and report back to us if he isn’t.”


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione could still hear Ginny’s voice in her mind, as if in repeat.

_I don’t know what to tell you, Hermione, he’s really changed. When he helped me, I was beginning to think we’ll never have sex with Harry after the war, but now look at me, I’m practically huge as a house!”_

Hermione didn’t have any sleep since the Wizengamot's announcement. In a way, it was a natural tactic on the part of her nervous system. Being so drowsy was the only way she could walk through the door of Draco Malfoy’s practice again, without a panic attack.

A general sluggishness that came with the deep fatigue she could feel even in her bones kept her breath from speeding up, and her reactions were slow.

She at least didn’t have to worry about Malfoy’s clients assessing her. She was seated a bit to the side, under a strong, Ministry-level Disillusionment Charm, so they didn’t even know she was there.

Hermione wanted to avoid anyone feeling scrutinized by her, or acting differently, maybe even too embarrassed in her presence to talk. She stuck with writing everything down, instead of using a Muggle recording device, even if it would have been more accurate. She wanted to have something to do with her hands, busily scribbling away. 

In a way, she was shielding herself by clinging into the familiar weight of the parchment and the quill, keeping her gaze down, instead of catching any straying looks Malfoy might have graced her with.

It worked so far: when she arrived, they both said good mornings, and haven’t talked since. Malfoy went on counseling a wizard of Arthur Weasley’s age, the wizard worrying about how he might be boring his wife, which frankly, given his awkward way of speaking, could be true.

Then came a witch, stunningly beautiful, red-haired, and not unlike Ginny Weasley, only older. And the resemblance didn't stop there when she was claiming Malfoy has reformed her life when Pansy let her in.

“So, Patricia, we were talking about your husband, and you considering leaving him last week. I sense that something has changed?” he asked, and could barely finish the sentence, she was so excitedly nodding.

“Yes, yes! Mr. Malfoy, I took the advice you gave me, and it has changed my life. I told myself that after the war, even his conservative magical parents would have to accept a divorce, and I have talked with him, telling him that we’re adults enough to only stay together if we still can find a way to rekindle our lost feelings, and he listened. It’s a miracle! I’m so happy like I haven’t been in 10 years, and it’s all thanks to you!”

Hermione couldn’t help but look up from her notes to see Draco’s reaction to this, but he seemed quite guarded, no matter the praise.

“What is he doing now, that you talked? I remember you saying you didn’t entirely trust him after he cheated on you at least twice. Thinking he might be again.”

“Yes, but I was such a fool, Mr. Malfoy,” Patricia just smiled. “He’s acting so sweet and charming! I was just jealous of his long work hours, but now every morning he wakes me up before he has to go. Sometimes he serves me breakfast in bed, and owls me presents when he can’t come home. I think I started to remember why I married him. We're doing so good I might just don’t have to see you anymore.“

“I’m happy for you, Patricia, after what you told me, I do believe if anyone, you deserve this,” Draco said, but Hermione almost felt a “but” coming. “But I have to ask: aren’t you concerned this transformation is a bit too fast, considering how many things we had to discuss last week? Don’t you find it’s safer if we kept meeting for a little while still, working through some more issues and checking that the progress you made with your husband lasts?”

“There are no more issues. I was just depressed last week, seeing everything darker than it really was,” Patricia said, and Hermione couldn’t say why Draco didn’t just take the win.

The client herself said she was okay, and it’s not like Malfoy needed the money of his practice anyway, to force anyone to keep seeing him. Of course, Hermione didn’t know what was discussed between Draco and her last week.

“So I see, you have mended your relationship with him splendidly,” Malfoy now said, doing a 180, eschewing from disputing her happiness any further. “I would like to hear more about that, to share your joy. Did you have sex with him last week?”

“No, but,” Patricia’s voice just only gave way to doubt for the first couple of syllables. “He’s such a gentleman now. We’re taking it slow.”

“Which means he kisses you or displays his affection in gestures that are intimate?” Draco pushed.

“He did kiss me on the cheek once. It was very romantic.“

“Is he still sleeping in a different room?” Malfoy asked, and Hermione felt bad for the witch. His tone started to resemble an interrogation.

“Yes, but-“

“But you felt something change," Malfoy must have sensed her discomfort as well, so he switched to a slower, gentler tone. "These gifts he sends you… are they your favorite chocolate or wine, perhaps?”

“Both, how did you know?” Patricia smiled in delight.

“To celebrate, I would like to also invite you for a drink,” Draco stood suddenly, walking out to Pansy, talking briefly with her. Then Pansy returned a couple of minutes later with a potion bottle she handed to Malfoy while she gave Hermione a rancorous look, before disappearing.

When Malfoy just poured the potion as a “drink” to Patricia's cup, Hermione almost thought he was trying to poison the witch. She jumped to her feet, but the minute she stood and Malfoy looked at her, still handing the cup to his client, she realized what was happening.

Patricia was not only seemingly over the moon happy, unconcerned about her past or the future, but she was _too_ cheerful, almost like a child.

“It seems as if it’s not a drink but a potion. Even smells funny,” she noted, examining the liquid.

“You have to _believe me_ it is,” the young Malfoy stood next to her, his hand on his wand. “It’s a fine whiskey exactly for occasions like this. If you taste it you’ll see.”

“Oh really?” she just said, gulping it down on one go.

The fake cheerfulness, the declaration how everything suddenly changed, just as the susceptibility must have indicated Draco what Hermione was now guessing had happened. Hearing she might divorce him, Patricia’s husband had dosed her with love potion.

That was what the chocolate and the wine were for. The breakfasts in bed. He had to regularly drug her, even when he wasn’t home, using owls to deliver his “presents”.

The antidote for a love potion was not that difficult to brew, and clearly, Malfoy had some in stock. Hermione just watched holding her breath if Draco was right.

Patricia took her cup down on the table, looked up at Malfoy, down to the empty glass again, and she sat down back on the sofa with a sigh that almost sounded like a sob.

“He poisoned me, didn’t he? After 20 years of marriage, he’d do that to me, just so he could please his mother by _not_ having a divorce,” she announced, her tone just as well as her stature shifted now. Malfoy sat next to her.

“You’d be surprised how many people I’ve treated with the same,” he told her. “And I know you wanted to give him another chance because of the kids, and because he promised he’d change this time, and would really try. But given what you have told me last week, even if he’s doing this to keep you, it’s...”

“I have to leave him, don’t I?” Patricia asked resigned, looking at least 10 years older. “I tried to give him a chance and another and yet another, but… it’s only lucky the children are in school, so I don’t have to move them out of his house… what will my father say, he always liked him so much.”

“I’m sure your father wants what’s best for you,” Draco pointed out, making the now teary-eyed Patricia smile.

“You’re right, of course.”

It took another 20 minutes to somehow pull Patricia together after the breakdown, Pansy appearing again to bring tissue-paper for her, just as well as water.

When the poor witch was gone Hermione couldn’t help but ask Malfoy.

“Did you know all along?”

“I couldn’t be sure,” he humored her, pouring himself a cup of water from what was left. “But she originally came to me with blocked magic, turning out to be much more. Her magic indicated how she tried to cater to her husband’s every whim so much she buried her real self in the process, causing the breaks in her power. And it still didn’t flow any freer, no matter how happy she said she was. If she had truly reconciled with her husband, I would expect at least a minor shift in her power as well, but if anything, it was pushed and dulled even further down. Like a volcano, ready to burst, causing her to feel as if she had more energy, even talking faster.”

Hermione, who never considered magic as connected to people’s feelings, after all, it was just always _there_, now paused to consider. Then contemplated how Ron’s magic didn’t seem to be changed by what he did to her, but she quickly stopped that thought in the middle. Thinking it only affected her and remembering it didn’t help her get through the day.

“Well, we can say you passed the first test in the eyes of the Ministry, Mr. Malfoy,” she then told Draco, who just gave her an unhappy look, and a raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t comfort her too much or too little, given your opinion, Miss Granger, or what?”

“You could have pretended she was miraculously healed by you while I was here, making me write a good report about it, but you didn't,” she noted.

“That would mean I believed that you would ever write a positive review of my practice and me, which frankly, I highly doubt,” Malfoy just said, his voice almost as if he was hurt by what she just said.

She wondered why would he be offended, given how she never aimed to flatter his ego, and she could clearly imagine Draco taking advantage of a situation like this. Then, as the day progressed, she pondered why she felt peccant about that.


	6. Chapter 6

It was easy to forget about your own story if others kept coming to you with theirs.

Hermione didn’t feel like she healed any while spying on Malfoy’s clients, but rather, as if all her issues had been pushed into the back.

The next client was a woman named Delilah, dragging her son into the couch by force.

“What can I help you with?” Draco asked, as often with new clients. 

Some never returned after the first hour was up. But he was still more patient than Hermione would have given him credit for.

“Me? No, no, you misunderstand, I’m perfectly well. But you have to fix my son, Albert, at once.”

Albert just looked straight up to Hermione by mentioning his name. She froze. 

Children with their accidental magic could see sometimes over the Disillusionment charm. She didn’t consider it. 

Thought Malfoy won’t have clients who bought their children. But especially not them being the topic of a session.

“How old are you, young wizard?” Draco just asked, as if to distract the kid from Hermione quickly.

“Seven and a half,” the wizard barely audibly said.

“Seven and a half what? Galleons worth, if I wanted to sell you on Knockturn Alley?” his mother, however, didn’t appreciate his answer.

“Years,” the child corrected.

“Go outside and sit with the kind lady while I tell the Healer what’s wrong with you,” Delilah just added then, ordering the boy out. Albert went.

“Now, Merlin sees my soul, I have tried everything with this boy,” she then just turned to Malfoy. “Right from his birth, he have been always difficult. But I had enough last week when an elf reported to me he terrorized the little witches we had over for tea.”

“Terrorized?” Malfoy’s eyebrow made a motion as if in surprise. But the second it would have shown, it was already gone.

“He asked the little witches if they wanted to see him naked, while we, the adults had our own talks,” Delilah said, without any sign of emotion in her voice or face. “He must have gotten that from his good-for-nothing father. Seen him having witches in our mansion behind my back. Long before the divorce.”

“So he cheated on you? When did you divorce him?” Malfoy asked, but he was told down right away.

“Don’t mind my bastard ex-wizard, this is about my son. Fix him. How much do you think it will cost?” Delilah asked with a dismissing notion of her hand.

“I… I tend to think it would also serve you well to talk about your divorce. For his sake,” Draco lied, Hermione knew. It wasn’t for just the child’s sake at all.

“I have nothing to say about that. I want Albert corrected before it’s too late. Use whatever tool you have to, but I want to know how long before you can get rid of his nasty behavior.”

Malfoy fell silent. By the time he spoke, Hermione thought he wouldn’t.

“I’d have to talk with him as well, first.”

“Yes, I can see why,” Delilah said. Then returned with her son, the same way, dragging him by the hand as before. The boy didn’t seem to notice.

“And I would need you to wait outside for this,” Draco said to the witch, who took it almost as if an insult.

“I’d rather stay and make sure he behaves.”

“Delilah, you want me to help him, right? I need to hear him out first,” Malfoy just said.

“_Fine,_” she said briefly. “Can I then leave him with you while I do the shopping?”

Hermione at this point was glad that the woman didn’t see her. She had doubts she would like the expression Hermione had after hearing these words.

Albert, on the other hand, just stared at her, then averted his eyes again, as if the floor was more interesting.

“Albert, with your mother leaving for a bit, maybe we could get to know a little about each other, what do you say?”

The kid looked Malfoy up and down and stared at Hermione.

“Is the lady’s hair magic?” he just asked, completely ignoring the general direction Malfoy was heading.

“If you ask her, I’m sure she can tell you herself,” Malfoy didn’t help much, but the boy then did surprise Hermione.

“Is your hair magic, Miss, if you don’t mind me asking?” he asked.

“No, I just usually don’t have the time to do anything with it,” Hermione tugged on some of the strands self-consciously.

Albert, in return just stared a little bit more.

Malfoy, who didn’t even blink during their exchange, had another question for him.

“Albert, if we could play any game right now for a little bit, what would you pick?”

The boy just shrugged, this time.

“Would you like to eat some candy? Learn a spell? Play Quidditch?”

“I can’t do magic,” Albert only said.

“Are you a Squib?” Malfoy asked. “I have a very good friend who is too, you know.”

Hermione wondered why she wasn’t surprised Draco lied to the child. As far as she knew, that is.

“I’m not a Squib. I’m not _allowed,”_ the boy said.

“You don’t have a practice wand?” Hermione was so shocked, she asked the child. 

In every magical household, they had such wands, especially for kids. They were inexpensive, and only performed a couple of very specific spells, but they were fairly common. Even she knew about them now, despite not having one as a child.

The boy shook his head.

“Do you have accidents with your magic, then? If you can’t practice?” Draco asked with a softer tone.

“I used to, but I got punished for it,” the child said.

It was almost clear. The mother was torturing her child, as if him being potent in magic wasn’t natural, and in turn, Albert tortured his mother in the only way he could. He scared those girls, sensing his mother’s distress over his father’s affairs, cutting her back where he could inflict any damage, probably.

If Hermione realized, Malfoy must have known since the boy and his mother entered the room, probably.

True to Draco’s word, they played exploding Snap after, even including Hermione. She didn’t want to play, but when she saw Malfoy was losing the game on purpose, she joined.

Competing who cloud play it worse kept it fun.

“You’re both so bad, Sir, Miss!” he exclaimed, too entertained and excited to notice.

He had an embarrassed smile, but that was on until his mother didn’t appear with a morose expression on her face.

“What is this?”

“We were just playing,” Malfoy collected himself surprisingly fast from the floor, where he sat to reach better the cards on the coffee table.

“Well, we are leaving. Albert, don’t leave your coat.”

“Actually, could you wait for your mother outside, Albert?” Draco overruled Delilah. “I have something I would like to discuss with her.”

“Just so you know, if I wanted someone entertaining my kid, I would have left him with an elf, at least they are free,” the witch seemed irritated.

“Your son needed attention because he can’t get any from you. When was the last time you spent any time with him?” Malfoy asked.

He seemed unfazed. He had the slightest smile in the corner of his lips as if he was entertained, which Hermione couldn’t place, given the situation.

“How dare you critique my parenting!” Of course, he didn’t get any reply from Delilah, just a raised voice.

“I wasn’t. But if I wanted to, I’d say you’re trying to cripple your child by not letting him use his magic, just because his father left you. You’d rather see Albert incompetent, than to let him become a real wizard, thinking he’d be like his father. News is, this way you only…”

Hermione rose from her seat, and the sudden motion stopped Draco. He almost seemed as if he had forgotten about her.

“I don’t even feel like I have to justify myself to you,” Delilah just used Malfoy’s sudden silence to speak. “I should have known a Malfoy could never really help anyone. I’m not paying the session’s fee, just so you know. You did nothing but insult me.”

She didn’t waste time saying goodbye either.

“That wasn’t very Slytherin of you,” Hermione just noted. “You could have tried to coax her to gradually treat Albert better if she came back.”

“All she would have learned is to lie better,” Malfoy noted. He was already at the door, using the time left of the appointment to leave early for lunch or go Merlin knows where.


	7. Chapter 7

Draco was not ready to admit that the happenings of last week have taken its toll on him. How could you listen to other people’s problems if your own is ready to swallow you whole?

Luckily, he still got his magic. Adding it to the words he barely registered was enough for him to get to the bottom of his client’s problems.

“You know, my best friend told me that without biological children, we’re just roommates,” a wizard named Ben explained. “I expected to hear this from my controlling mother. Or my father who thought things can be only done properly in one way. But to hear that from your best friend, about a wizard you have been living with 6 years now was unexpectedly low for me.”

Draco felt Granger’s magic relax a bit. and lost his train of thought for one second.

The witch didn’t even realize it, but ever since Ben, the tall and big wizard came into the room, she was on edge. 

Shifting in her seat, gripping her quill, and radiating nervousness. Right until Ben admitted he was gay.

It was like watching an emotional roller coaster, from up close, every day.

Not that he kept his gaze on Granger at all. After Pansy’s warning at the hearing, Draco tried to ignore her the best he could.

He wished he was in on the Disillusionment charm not knowing she was there, not his clients.

“I’m sure your best friend didn’t mean to belittle you,” Draco just said. He would never tell Pansy her relationships weren’t real.

Same-sex magicals could be bound by magic. Even if from a legal standpoint, the Ministry still didn’t acknowledge gay marriages.

“Yes, I’m taking things out of context,” Ben said, nodding. “But I… I can’t sleep, I have lost weight, and it’s on repeat in my head.”

Draco sensed there should be something more. It was almost like seeing colors, sensing the flow of magic in others.

The closer he got to a person, the better he could “see” the strings of energies that people had emitted. 

Though there was a limit to that, some wizards and witches deliberately keeping themselves closed off.

And some of his clients lied to themselves for so long and so well, that these strings were hidden, almost if behind a wall.

Ben, had a string disappear into one such wall, but not so strong that Draco couldn’t still have a general idea of its color. 

It was familiar, yet not an exact science. He tried to identify it as a cook would name the ingredients of a dish.

“How is your relationship with your partner?” he just asked.

The logical conclusion was if Ben knew this friend didn’t want to insult him but was offended anyway, that he believed the insult, on some level. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have come to Draco and chose to start with this issue.

“He’s the best, and I’m not just saying that to brag,” Ben smiled. “Sometimes I think I love him too much.”

Now that was an interesting word choice.

“Too much? What do you mean?” Draco asked.

Ben awkwardly laughed.

“To be totally honest, well,… it’s hard to talk about it.”

“But my charm will put you at ease enough?” Draco suggested.

It was a grave mistake.

He had used this technique with so many witches before. Some just laughed, some felt validated, some became more honest. But generally, it helped the therapy nicely along. So, he used it without thinking.

He was keenly aware Granger probably thought it was misconduct, busy taking notes.

“Are you… into wizards? I have heard you served You-Know-Who, but I always thought it was just mere chatter,” Ben looked him up and down.

At least, it worked. Ben started a conversation with him, not just recounting a clinical account of his life.

This meant progress only if Draco was in turn brutally honest about himself. Many times before he had told witches deeply personal stories about himself, and got their trust in return.

Draco just wished he didn’t have to “confess” in front of Granger.

“No, they were. I’m attracted to witches, but they find it difficult to be attracted to me.”

“Oh, maybe you just haven’t put yourself out there enough, you feel me?” Ben noted. “That’s how I used to think before I met Vincent as well.”

“I get that a lot,” Draco admitted before getting back to Ben. “What do you mean by ‘loving him too much’?”

“You know how it is,” Ben shifted to the front of the sofa to explain. “Some people who are funny, intelligent, and good looking, they… get bored enough easily.”

“Are you talking about yourself?” Draco decided to continue what he started. It was a mistake at first, but now he almost wanted to _provoke_ Granger to write him up on it.

_Too friendly and personal with some gay clients._ He could almost see the report, and the faces of the Ministry officials reading it.

“I wish,” Ben laughed, and even colored slightly. “I mean I’m okay. But Vince… he’s everything I was looking for in a partner. Only, I haven’t considered how many other people were looking for the same.”

“You feel like you aren’t equals in the relationship?” they were getting somewhere, finally.

“I wouldn’t say that... we have a relationship that’s quite established,” Ben talked a little bit slowly, considering it. “It’s rather when… I can’t tell Vince how much I love him or show affection. The minute I do, I can see he’s bored with me, and I have to keep him on his toes, so then I’d have to treat him like dirt to correct it.”

“You’re afraid if he knew he could trust your love he’d leave you.”

“Eventually, yes,” Ben smiled a sad smile. “And so if I make a mistake, like hugging him, I have to straighten it out. Taking a couple of steps back from him, to cool his sensors, if it makes sense? But then, every time I do that, he also begins to pull away a little.”

“It’s a dance where you’d end up in different rooms at the end, not even seeing where the other went,” Draco noted.

He saw that pattern with some of the couples he had worked with before.

Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter one of many, after the war.

“Yes. But if I move closer, it’s also just pushing him away, too much affection for his taste. Seems like I’m cursed either way,” Ben said in a low voice. 

By the time he put this into words, he was also softly crying, so Draco gave him the tissue box.

“A charming man like you say Vince is, he wouldn’t have stayed 6 years with a person he didn’t love,” Draco said. 

It made sense Ben got upset by the roommate comment. Maybe thinking without a kid to bind them together as straight couples, Vince can leave him easier.

“I guess,” Ben smiled at hearing that under the tears. “But I’m not sure time is on our relationship’s side. Everything will just become a routine, and I don’t know. I don’t even _want to know_ who I am without Vince.”

“This will not be easy to hear,” Draco channeled a little calming magic behind his words which neither Ben nor Granger hopefully would not notice.

He’d be emotionally depleted himself for hours, but maybe that was a good thing about already living on the rock bottom. There wasn’t much of a difference.

“But you think I need to hear it,” Ben said.

“Yes,” Draco said. “I think you need to imagine a life without Vince.”

“You think he is truly going to leave me,” Ben paled. “Maybe you can tell from my magic if he’s cheating?”

“No, I can’t do that, but I have seen plenty of couples struggling the same way you do. I only advise you find things that would keep you interested because I’ve seen people who didn’t.”

Finding a hobby could keep Ben’s worries at bay. And it could introduce a certain unpredictability from Ben’s side, without the ill effects of him keeping his distance from his partner, unconsciously trying to accomplish the same result.

Draco was still uncomfortable giving advice, it wasn’t needed in most cases, and people should always decide for themselves. But, even giving an anxious person bad advice was better than to just let them be, in his mind.

If the advice is far from what the person wanted to do, it can at least show them a way to what they truly wanted in return.

“I have always wanted to open a magical tattoo shop, but I know nothing about the techniques,” only talking about tattoos, Ben’s whole face lit up. “Maybe I could design you one if it works.”

“I’d rather you remove what I already have,” Draco admitted, honest. “But maybe you could remake it for me.”

“I would. As I would tell Vince you flirted with me, and make sure to see you come in when I do your tattoo for free.”

“You must have been a Slytherin,” Draco just noted, getting only a no from Ben shaking his head slightly with an amused smile. “But I think we have your homework until the next session if you want to have another.”

“Are you kidding? I feel like we’re best friends already,” Ben said. It was good that he even felt like joking, not every patient did after crying.

However, Ben did come to him, a sex-therapist and not to a Healer, there could have been a reason. Maybe he was just embarrassed about it yet. 

Or Ben was a people-pleaser so much that he even wanted to please his therapist by not going into more issues, for now. So Draco didn't push but made a mental note for next time if Ben did return. Some wizards and witches never did.

"Then, I hope to see you maybe in a week or two," Draco smiled back. Camouflaging, as so often, his real thoughts behind a smile, so that clients don't see into his thoughts. 

It was even easier to maintain a smile than an emotionless mask, and people took to it much better.

Except for the Dark Lord, who was singlehandedly responsible for the birth of Draco's void expression. A mask that adhered to his face so much he thought he wouldn't be able to take it ever off again. Luckily, he was wrong.

"Oh, it's a date," Ben stepped out of the room, promising.

Draco didn't turn to look or talk to Granger, given how all their previous discussions went. When Pansy appeared, he gladly accepted a coffee from her and tried to ignore the feeling that she was looking at them, deep in thought.


	8. Chapter 8

If the people visiting Draco had one thing in common was that they all started avoiding something, and it festered with time. 

Avoiding the truth, a pull you feel for someone, or the contrary: how your partner didn’t attract you anymore wasn’t a crime.

It let to relatively minor complications at first, sometimes taking shapes of a problem coming and going with the help of time. 

But if you insisted denying it never happened, and acted against your instincts, just to prove something didn’t affect you, you’d be led by that opposing posture your entire life.

You would make mistakes knowing they were mistakes, but trying to push through because you would have no other choice. 

Facing something you buried years ago by then would feel even more terrifying than any other, new mistake.

Hermione stopped working 18 hours every day and went to a Muggle counselor as the first step. 

There she had to tell someone what happened for the first time, and it felt almost like an out-of-body experience like it wasn’t Hermione who was talking about it.

She wasn’t suffering, because she was fine. She’s already forgotten everything. She wasn’t the one who started to cry when she heard a simple question coming from the psychologist.

“You said this happened years ago. Are you here now, because you think you’re ready to start a new relationship with a professional’s help?”

“Do your patients like me ever manage to get back to normal?” she wondered. And was pleased that she didn’t just get a “yes” back as a comforting lie.

“They all have better and worse days. Usually, it’s not something one can forget. But some people who can find a partner they trust can live completely happy lives. Even have a family, although it takes a lot of work and time to get there.”

“I can imagine,” she bit her lip, thinking.

“Do you have any friends?” the doctor looked at her.

“Not many, I’m the head of my department, and I just recently got some extra work dumped on me,” Hermione thought how even though she had to be there to monitor Malfoy 8 hours every weekday, the Ministry expected her to handle the same workload everyday _after_ she was done there.

“I wasn’t looking for a count, I just thought it was curious you didn’t mention them. Have you told any of them what happened?”

Hermione shifted in her seat.

“They all know my ex-boyfriend, so I can’t. Some of them are related to him.”

“I understand you don’t wish to be a whistleblower in that case. But don’t you think by protecting him, you eradicated the support you’d otherwise get from your friends?”

Hermione so far appreciated anything she was told, but just merely thinking Molly would hear back from anyone what Ron did made her angry.

“What would you do in my shoes? Run and tell his family? Print it on the papers while I'm at it?”

“No, of course not. But then maybe you could use some friends then who don’t know him or confide in someone who does but would be on your side. They could even help you around him.”

“I’d rather suffer completely alone than know everyone around me can see why I suffer, pitting people in one family against each other. And even if I went out and got new friends, how am I supposed to tell them?”

“Only when they know you enough.”

“Do you know how much time would it take?” Hermione didn’t realize when, but she must have started sweating. “Plus, I love my friends, one secret can’t change that.“

“It would only take you the same length of time to get other friends now, then if you started 10 years later, regretting maybe you didn’t start earlier.”

Hermione had her doubts, but she could also see sense in what she was told, and see for herself in Draco’s sessions how generally even magical people weren't an exception to simple rules.

No matter how she had doubts she could socialize with other women (witches or Muggles, no matter) who seemed to only care about finding a relationship and then making it last, she wanted to do something. 

What happened in her past wasn’t under her control, but what she did with her scars now was.

And Ginny was quite pregnant now, so she wouldn’t have been a good choice, even for a simple meal, if it was already an effort for her to get up and walk in her own home - or at least that’s what Hermione told herself. 

But maybe she kept her distance and called Luna instead because she listened to what the psychologist told her.

Luna seemed to know all about the possible gatherings they could ever go, and once Hermione got over how she sometimes seemed to talk nonsense, but usually was thinking about something else that she didn’t want to push, they got along quite well.

They met Denise, a petit witch with strong opinions on a Muggle book-signing event surprisingly. 

Then the three of them adopted Ramira, a stay-at-home-witch in a Ministry Gala, after being seated together at a table with her, and a bunch of witches who were laughing at her behind her back.

They were only doing "boring" things together, like ordering drinks and talking about their lives - and Hermione mostly listened, not talked - but her Muggle doctor was right.

At least Hermione felt like she could look forward to Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday nights.

And if the girls wanted to meet her in a bar or a pub, she wasn’t as terrified to go as before, because they kept her company, and if not even completely safe, she at least felt less guarded with them.

She could even do her work faster, after some time she spent with relaxing, so she started up things she otherwise would have thought she was too busy to try to bother with. 

Meditation, trying out new recipes, reading a book not just on the sofa, but in the tub, having a nice scented bath, relaxing more than previously. 

And to her surprise, a Muggle sport called Aikido, which she only started because Denise insisted they all go, but Hermione was the only one who kept going.

On the surface it was teaching her how to defend herself physically. But as she got more agile and strong, she felt it was also about something much more. Something that helped her.

“A round of free drinks for all of you, from the group over there,” the bartender served Hermione and the girl drinks, and when she turned, only then did she see it was Pansy and Draco with two other witches, raising their glasses as a greeting.

They ended up in the same establishment, and Hermione felt she must have been better lately if she didn’t even notice. 

Or got flustered seeing the two Slytherins, appreciating the gesture, which almost felt like a truce.

Not expecting Pansy to greet her in the morning any different than her usual disapproving self, but what was strange is that she wasn’t talking. Only staring.

“Is it the stare-silently-at-the-person-you-would-like-to-make-disappear-day today?” Hermione tried to be not unnerved. 

She still disliked pulling attention to herself, even if she used the mirror in the morning and was looking pretty much as usual.

“Out with it: how long have you been dating Garreth?” she asked Hermione, then rolled her eyes. “I know, I know, we aren’t friends, but I’m too curious for any news that’s not about Draco’s sorry love-life, and you still find my Slytherin charms enough just to spill.”

Hermione awkwardly laughed. It was good to be not on the “I’d kill you next if I could” list of Pansy, but she still didn’t have the possible gossip Pansy thought she had.

“The _charming way_ you inquire about it, I’d probably be _extremly tempted_ to tell you if there was something,” Hermione announced, making Pansy raise an eyebrow questioningly, sensing there was a “but” coming probably miles away. “But I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Garreth, the barkeep last night? You might have been there with your friends, but I was surprised he could even serve drinks, given that his eyes had never left you.”

Hermione considered it, but she would have noticed. She still felt uncomfortable if men seized her up.

Would Pansy just trying to provoke Hermione to something, by lying?

“I doubt I have talked to him longer than a second, I don’t even know his name.”

“I’m sure he knows yours,” Pansy winked. “Maybe then you could tell me later, once he made his move.”

“Pans, tell me you already have my coffee,” Malfoy came in from the Floo, and almost seemed rushed, instead of his usual composed self. “Miss Granger, good morning.”

Hermione first thought he could have spent the night with his date (?) from last night, and that’s why he was almost late.

But there were dark circles under his eyes, his hair tousled carelessly, and he seemed to lost a significant amount of weight too. His clothes were hanging over him, and he was never on the heavy side, to begin with. 

Funny, how Hermione could see that and not malice in his posture. 

Now that she was well enough to concentrate on somebody else, not totally consumed by her overwhelming fear and sheer panic.


End file.
